February 28, 2008

My sweet friend Andrea shared the following story on her blog a while back. I have heard it many times. It has never failed that when I hear it...I've needed to hear it.

It's told by Beth Moore a "house built on rock, never afraid of embarrassing herself for God's Kingdom, certifiable Jesus Freak"...This is one of her experiences:April 20, 2005, at the Airport in Knoxville , waiting to board the plane, I had the Bible on my lap and was very intent upon what I was doing. I'd had a marvelous morning with the Lord. I say this because I want to tell you it is a scary thing to have the Spirit of God really working in you. You could end up doing some things you never would have done otherwise. Life in the Spirit can be dangerous for a thousand reasons not the least of which is your ego.I tried to keep from staring, but he was such a strange sight. Humped over in a wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressed in clothes that obviously fit when he was at least twenty pounds heavier. His knees protruded from his trousers, and his shoulders looked like the coat hanger was still in his shirt. His hands looked like tangled masses of veins and bones. The strangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy, gray hair hung well over his shoulders and down part of his back. His fingernails were long, clean but strangely out of place on an old man. I looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfort burning my face. As I tried to imagine what his story might have been, I found wondering if I'd just had a Howard Hughes sighting. Then, I remembered that he was dead. So this man in the airport...an impersonator maybe? Was a camera on us somewhere? There I sat trying to concentrate on my bible to keep from being concerned about a thin slice of humanity served on a wheelchair only a few seats from me. All the while, my heart was growing more and more overwhelmed with a feeling for him. Let's admit it. Curiosity is a heap more comfortable than true concern, and suddenly I was awash with aching emotion for this bizarre-looking old man. I had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting on the wall. I've learned that when I begin to feel what God feels, something so contrary to my natural feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen. And it may be embarrassing. I immediately began to resist because I could feel God working on my spirit and I started arguing with God in my mind. "Oh, no, God, please, no." I looked up at the ceiling as if I could stare straight through it into heaven and said, "Don't make me witness to this man. Not right here and now. Please. I'll do anything. Put me on the same plane, but don't make me get up here and witness to this man in front of this gawking audience. Please, Lord!" There I sat in the blue vinyl chair begging His Highness "Please don't make me witness to this man. Not now. I'll do it on the plane." Then I heard it. "I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to brush his hair." The words were so clear, my heart leapt into my throat, and my thoughts spun like a top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair? No-brainer. I looked straight back up at the ceiling and said, "God, as I live and breathe, I want you to know I am ready to witness to this man. I'm on this Lord. I'm your girl! You've never seen a woman witness to a man faster in your life. What difference does it make if his hair is a mess if he is not redeemed? I am going to witness to this man." Again as clearly as I've ever heard an audible word, God seemed to write this statement across the wall of my mind. "That is not what I said, Beth. I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to go brush his hair." I looked up at God and quipped, "I don't have a hairbrush. It's in my suitcase on the plane. How am I supposed to brush his hair without a hairbrush?" God was so insistent that I involuntarily began to walk toward him as these thoughts came to me from God's word: "I will thoroughly furnish you unto all good works." (2 Timothy3:17) I stumbled over to the wheelchair thinking I could use one myself. Even as I retell this story, my pulse quickens and I feel those same butterflies. I knelt down in front of the man and asked as demurely as possible, "Sir, may I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?" He looked back at me and said, "What did you say?" "May I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?" To which he responded in volume ten, "Little lady, if you expect me to hear you, you're going to have to talk louder than that." At this point, I took a deep breath and blurted out, "SIR, MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF BRUSHING YOUR HAIR?" At which point every eye in the place darted right at me. I was the only thing in the room looking more peculiar than old Mr. Long locks. Face crimson and forehead breaking out in a sweat, I watched him look up at me with absolute shock on his face, and say, "If you really want to." Are you kidding? Of course I didn't want to. But God didn't seem interested in my personal preference right about then. He pressed on my heart until I could utter the words, "Yes, sir, I would be pleased. But I have one little problem. I don't have a hairbrush." "I have one in my bag," he responded. I went around to the back of that wheelchair, and I got on my hands and knees and unzipped the stranger's old carry-on, hardly believing what I was doing. I stood up and started brushing the old man's hair. It was perfectly clean, but it was tangled and matted. I don't do many things well, but must admit I've had notable experience untangling knotted hair mothering two little girls. Like I'd done with either Amanda or Melissa in such a condition, I began brushing at the very bottom of the strands, remembering to take my time not to pull. A miraculous thing happened to me as I started brushing that old man's hair. Everybody else in the room disappeared. There was no one alive for those moments except that old man and me. I brushed and I brushed and I brushed until every tangle was out of that hair. I know this sounds so strange, but I've never felt that kind of love for another soul in my entire life. I believe with all my heart, I - for that few minutes -felt a portion of the very love of God. That He had overtaken my heart for a little while like someone renting a room and making Himself at home for a short while. The emotions were so strong and so pure that I knew they had to be God's. His hair was finally as soft and smooth as an infant's. I slipped the brush back in the bag and went around the chair to face him. I got back down on my knees, put my hands on his knees and said, "Sir, do you know my Jesus?" He said, "Yes, I do." Well, that figures, I thought. He explained, "I've known Him since I married my bride. She wouldn't marry me until I got to know the Savior." He said, "You see, the problem is, I haven't seen my bride in months. I've had open-heart surgery, and she's been too ill to come see me. I was sitting here thinking to myself, what a mess I must be for my bride." Only God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divine moment when we're completely unaware of the significance. This, on the other hand, was one of those rare encounters when I knew God had intervened in details only He could have known. It was a God moment, and I'll never forget it. Our time came to board, and we were not on the same plane. I was deeply ashamed of how I'd acted earlier and would have been so proud to have accompanied him on that aircraft. I still had a few minutes, and as I gathered my things to board, the airline hostess returned from the corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, "That old man's sitting on the plane, sobbing. Why did you do that? What made you do that?" I said, "Do you know Jesus? He can be the bossiest thing!" And we got to share. I learned something about God that day. He knows if you're exhausted, you're hungry, you're serving in the wrong place or it is time to move on but feel too responsible to budge. He knows if you're hurting or feeling rejected. He knows if you're sick or drowning under a wave of temptation. Or He knows if you just need your hair brushed. He sees you as an individual. Tell Him your need! I got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering how many opportunities just like that one had I missed along the way . . . all because I didn't want people to think I was strange.God didn't send me to that old man. John 1:14 "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

"Life shouldn't be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather, to skid broadside, thoroughly used up, totallyworn out, and loudly shouting, "Wow! What a ride! Thank You, Lord!"

February 27, 2008

February 26, 2008

First Ever Public Confession (#4 or 5):I bought the Big Shooter what I thought would be the worst gift ever...on purpose.You see, one Christmas Eve a few years back, he realized he had no "real gifts" for me under the tree. Oh, he always has the very best stocking stuffers ever...okay, next to my dad. Now, there's a man who takes stuffers to a whole new level.Anyway, Big Shooter must have counted the gifts under the tree or something because while #2 and I ran to Tar-zhay to grab a little last minute Christmas cheer, he grabbed #1 and whisked him off to Sears. (It's the only other bigger store near us.) Now, what exactly can you run in to Sears and grab for The Love of Your Life? The one who has put up with your really bad humor...the fanning of the sheets for over a decade?Why, a 10x magnifiying mirror "so you can see better to pluck the stray whiskers out of your chin".Oh, yessss. He did.I, thankfully, got in a car accident on the way home so I was on serious pain meds the next morning - Christmas morning.In turn, being the mature grown-up woman I am, bought him an iron for Father's Day.It backfired.He proudly told everyone at work the next day about it.He uses it every night to iron his shirt for the next day.I think he finds ironing relaxing.

February 25, 2008

Attention PETA people: I do not condone the treatment of this poor little innocent animal so do NOT send me emails. Poor little crumb snatcher...

Personal note to my father: Do NOT under ANY circumstances allow your wife to see this here video. We've made a few baby steps in the "We're not TRUE rednecks" department. This? Well, this would guarantee we'd forever and ever amen be banished to the bottom of the pond scum section of Redneckism...

It's like a car wreck. It's baaaaad. Reeeaal bad. And I keep watchin' it. I've always admitted to being an ambulance chaser though. It's a down fall of mine.

February 23, 2008

I don't even know if I spelled meme correctly. I am just thrilled to have been tagged to do one!The rules for this meme are as follows:1. Link to your tagger and post these rules. (check. That would be Flea, yep like flea on a dog over athttp://thegoodflea.com/)2. Share 5 facts about yourself (Oh boy. Hang on to your hats...it's rip-roarin' interesting stuff let me just say...)3. Tag 5 (or so) people at the end of your post and link to them. (5?!)4. Let them know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment at their blogs. (check.)Disclaimer:I'm not sure which to suggest taking before reading this: No-Doze or a coupla really stiff drinks so you'll be happy regarless of the impending pain.Okay, here we go...Fact #1 - I am VERY proud to be an American, fly this country's gorgeous flag, humbled literally to my knees each time I consider the sacrifices made for me to be able to say these things while enjoying my freedom.

This is downtown Plainsville before the Veteran's Day parade. I know it's before because I am smiling. After the parade I had mascara stained cheeks from tears. As the vets went by us and read this sign (which I just spontaneously made by scrounging around in the trunk of my car before we went to stake out our spots) they would squint to read it and then smile broadly and give me the thumbs up or (gulp) salute me... The thought of these precious, brave, mostly older men mouthing the words "Thank you" for acknowledging them or saluting me was almost too much for me. Several times I put the sign down because it became too overwhelming. What humble and gentlemenly gentlemen they were. I try to teach patriotism to the Crumb Snatchers every chance I get. I want them to know what a privilege it is to live in the greatest nation in the world. And the only reason, as far as I am concerned, that it is the greatest nation is because of the men and women who have gone before us to protect it, fight for it, and prove it to be what it is.Fact # 2 - I'm an only child. My parents have been divorced since I was two so I do not know what it was like to grow-up with two parents. Actually, it felt like two different lives. Hence, two different pictures to show two of the most influential relationships on my life.

Fact #3 - Someone has actually touched my brain.The reason for this is I have a condition called Hemifacial Spasm. It is a non-curable, progressable (is that even a word?) condition that effects a person from the top of the scalp to the shoulder on one side of the body. The symptoms begin with mild eye twitching and finally proceed to "facial freezing spasms" and uncontrollable muscle contortions from scalp to shoulder. It usually shows up in people in their 5th decade or later. I was early 30's when I began having symptoms. Since there is no cure, the symptoms are treated with drugs, botox and surgery. When the symptoms had finally reached the point I could no longer read, drive safely with two itty bitty crumb snatchers or sleep for longer than a few minutes at a time I chose to have surgery. In the world of brain surgery it was suppose to be minor. It wasn't. But that is another post another time.

This picture is obvious.

This one is me a few days after. I am sitting up and taking notice of the world again. It is the first time in a loooong time I can open my left eye all the way. No twitching. No face freezes. Uninterrupted sleep. Well, not uninterrupted but at least not from the twitching! I did sustain a minor amount of paralyzation. I cannot close my left eye very tightly so it is always dry and gets irritated regularly with shampoo, wind, sun, pollen, etc. If you look closely my smile is just the slightest bit lop-sided. You have to look closely or know about it to notice. These are two side effects I gladly traded for the alternative let me say!Fact #4 - I have a wife. Kinda. Sorta.

Okay, she's not my real wife...but she might as well be. We own a JBF franchise together and since it takes up so much of our personal lives we are pretty much married to one another. I named her Saucy Sashi. The reason for her name is also another post for another time. But let me just say both Saucy and Sashi fit her...whether she wants to admit to the Saucy part or not! Fact # 5 - I live to serve these three people...

as a Godly wife...(I struggle with this calling daily. Hourly. Okay, by the seconds...but I am trying. Does that count?)

and as their Godly mother.(ditto for the struggle part.)That's it. It's a long post. Reeeal long. Thank you for stickin' it out if you've read this far. These are the people I'm tagging to do this meme with me. Some are seasoned (very seasoned), busy (very busy) and popular (verrrry popular) bloggers who probably don't have time for such trivial nonesense...but, I'll publicly beg, grovel and offer up a Crumb Snatcher or two if they would join in the fun. And some are just casual or new bloggers so they may severe our friendship because I have publicly called them out...Life in the Chicken Coop because this is Saucy Sashi's brand spankin' new blog and she is going to blow a blood vessel over this invite. The Adventures of Bittyman and his Sidekick Itty Boy because I have been a faithful lookey loo for months and it's time I come out of the Darkness. She seems like a great momma and we share the same opinions on a-l-o-t of things. Sissy's Secrets because this is Crumb Snatcher #2 and she is going to EAT THIS INVITE UP! Looking Towards Heaven because I think everyone should have Karla's personality! Travnicek Family Doin's because she will scour her pix for days and really put thought into this. Sgt and Mrs. Hub because this is the first blog I click on in the morning and the last before I go to bed. Her outlook and perspective on life is an example to all who visit her sight. (Is that enough groveling Andrea? Purty please.) My other for real-life friend Andrea at Our Little Blog because she is a hidden treasure we all need to know better. The Diaper Diva over at Pardon Our Poo because her creativity deserves accolades galore. Just take a close look around her blog and you'll see what I mean. To Alycia clear over in Okinawa because I want to be just like her when I grow up. She is an outstanding model of a Godly wife and momma. I am so thankful to her. She is married to one of the brave protecting and defending our great nation. She offers him unwavering support with her love while providing unforgetable life experiences and memories for her 3 beautiful Treasues. I want her to adopt me. And last, I throw out a huge humble Thank You to the Good Flea for the invite that began this loooonnngggg post! Thanks Flea.Now...I'd loveit if you'dallpost 5 quick facts about yourselves in a comment. You've no idea the warm fuzzies it gives me to read your comments. So please, divulge, my good and faithful friends! Unveil yourselves you who are my faithful, anonymous lookey loos! Purge yourselves...and give me some entertainment in my dull and boring life!

February 22, 2008

Post Script: Since I've been emailed and asked a kajillion times today "How can you handle that?!" I figured I'd let you in on a simple little secret...I am a momma. What I mean by that is I know what all my kids are doing all the time. Therefore, when my sweet, new addition is getting a drink I am casually and calmly glancing around to make sure a Slobber Towel is within arms length. Cause I know he is going to come to whoever is nearest for a little ear rubbing and pat, pat, love, love when he is done. It's not brain surgery (and this I know about, by the way) - If ya hear the big lug slurpin' up a Big Gulp...get-a-towel-handy.Some people in my house don't have the Momma Gene. They end up with slime hanging from parts it shouldn't be hanging from. Others in my household squeal like little girls and jump up on chairs. #2 and I just shake our heads with sympathy. No Momma Genes, it's quite simple.

February 20, 2008

As a child my Grandpa Bozo and Granny Grunt saved all their aluminum cans for me. A couple times a year they'd dump out garbage bags and bags and bags full and have me stomp them down. They taught me how to squish them juuust right in the middle so they'd stay stuck to my shoes. Then I'd run around in circles on the driveway. It made the perfect sound of a a horse clopping. Oh, what great fun that was for a kid!

It was always a huge deal when we'd gathered, smashed and bagged enough to fill the truck bed. They'd make a whole afternoon of loading 'em up and haulin' them and me to the recycling center. I'd help get all the bags out, weigh them, and then get to help dump them in the giant compacting machine. After all the work was finished I'd follow my granddad over to the office to collect the money. He'd always make a big deal to the cashier about how I'd collected, smashed, bagged and hauled them in. He and my Granny made me feel like I'd done the whole job all by myself and make me believe I deserved the whole amount of money all to myself. So with my fist full of money, I'd plan to buy my mom a mansion, myself a horse and my grandparents a motor home... all with my $20 or $30.

Big Shooter has much the same memories (sans the granny and granddad) about collecting cans and earning extra cash as a kid. So it was only natural we shared these memories with the Crumb Snatchers when we discovered our demolished shed in the backyard after the Monster Ice Storm. Big Shooter had the boy child frothing at the mouth in expectation of the extra $ he'd earn by helping dismantle the mangled mess, haul it out of the back, load it in the truck and haul it to the recycling center. After unloading it, weighing it and getting to watch the Way Cool Gigantumous Claw pick it up, they went to the office in anticipation of their reward.

Aluminum is .85 cents a pound...and they had 230 pounds!

Can you imagine their excitement?

Too bad the shed was tin...$25 a ton.

Here's their receipt...

Just in case you can't read the small blurry number - it's $2.88.

Now, as funny as that is...here's the kicker. Big Shooter drives an Excursion a.k.a. Gas Hog that gets 9 miles to the gallon... it cost $5 in gas just to haul the shed there...

February 17, 2008

We had BIG DOGS, like reallybig dogs. We lost our last one the day after Thanksgiving a little over 3 years ago. Our house had a gigantic hole in the middle of the family room floor, the kitchen floor, the laundry room floor, the backyard... basically every where we looked we could picture our big beautiful girl and our hearts broke. Soooo, we agreed to get a smaller dog so we could travel easier, claim our backyard again, not have to be on constant toilet seat alert - things of that nature. Hence Olliver, our beloved BDP. Our life has seemed complete with our little guy. He is the source of giggles, chortles and at times outright gaffaws accompanied with snorting. Lots of snorting - both from him and us.

We have had many discussions on Olliver's state of being. Does he need a buddy to be here with him? Would he enjoy having a friend? Could he handle sharing us with another? What would be best for Olliver? All these questions...often. Yet never a real answer.

Then, if you remember a few posts back, we babysat Piddles, I mean Wiggles. Olliver loved, loved, LOVED having a playmate. Still we hem and haw past the idea. I mean c'mon! Two dogs to feed, two dogs to groom, two dogs to walk, two dogs' poo...? It just wasn't in the cards for our boy to have a buddy any time soon.

That was a week ago.

Apparently a whole lot can change in a week.

Meet Jack.

Olliver's new pet.

He was abandoned.

Walked into a hotel lobby in downtown Plainsville...then right into our home.

What were we thinking?

I have to admit I wondered the same thing for several days. I'll give you an answer tomorrow.

February 14, 2008

Since the Big Shooter will be leaving town early this a.m. we celebrated the Love Day yesterday. The Crumb Snatchers and I wrote silly songs and a poem. We gaily wrapped frosted sugar cookies with personal sweet messages written on them. Translation: We stopped at Merritt's Bakery. Then we delivered them with balloons to his office where we serenaded him with our silly songs and poem. He loved it.Translation: While smiling he kept glancing into the hallway for the "Keep the workplace stale and dull Police". They didn't come. But, a few members of his work harem gathered to listen and ooo & ahhh so he could puff his chest out a little.

After we'd finished a nice, semi-quiet dinner Big Shooter said, "The Boy and I have a quick errand to run..." which you and I both know what that means. I do not want to get caught tomorrow with my pants down!Translation: I need to go buy sappy gifts to appease the Love Gods so my wife doesn't feel slighted and change the locks while I am away. As he was about to close the door on the way out of the house I sarcastically (are you shocked at my audacity) called out, "Flowers, chocolate and money...in that order." And then chuckled at myself.

After 20+ years of being together for Love Day, I should have known.

Be still my heart.

Who doesn't need the GIANT 3 pound bag?

(That measurement would be me getting prepared for a smart comment about 10 inches of pure milk chocolate...but, the Crumb Snatchers will probably read this post one day and I don't want to put images in their brains...)

February 11, 2008

I was an only girl child, okay tomboy girl, but girl none the less. I know I could hold my own with boy cousins and a very humorous grandfather but nothing prepared me for raising a boy. I taught oodles of boys in my former life as a public school teacher. In fact, I preferred boy students.

Then came Crumb Snatcher #1.

When he discovered his parts as a toddler I knew the Pickle Tickle was just part of discovery and self learning. When he was being potty trained he became obsessed with the bodily functions...and it's never really left. I listen with great interest to his conversations with his buddies whether they are in person, on the phone or through e-mails. I have finally just accepted that even the boys from really proper families (we, by the way, are at the exact opposite end of the spectrum) love to talk, explore, compare, and describe ingreat degrees the bodies functions and noises.

Hence, the joke that I find myself wanting to share with complete strangers when encountering that ackward silence in lines, waiting rooms, airplanes. Well, not really airplanes. Although, I may consider that an option now when I no longer want to hear about Aunt Bessie's five Fi Fi dogs or my seatmate's bunions and corns.

"There was this airplane flying high, high up with two teachers and an Army Guy. It was way too heavy so the pilot said they needed to lighten the plane by throwing things out. So the first teacher threw out an apple and then jumped out herself. When she landed she saw a little kid crying. She asked what was the matter and the kid said, 'I was walking home and an apple fell out of the sky and hit me on the head.' The second teacher also threw out an apple and then jumped herself. When she landed she saw a little girl crying and asked her what was the matter. The little girl said she was playing with her dolly and an apple just fell out of the sky and hit her in the head. Now it was the Army Guy's turn. He threw out a grenade and jumped out of the plane. When he landed he found a little boy laughing his head off. Army Guy asked what was so funny and the little boy said,'I pooted and the house blew up!'"

During school the other day the Crumb Snatchers and I were having a discussion about the word Christian during a spelling lesson. After realizing the root word was C-h-r-i-s-t, #2 said, "Do you think everyone who says they are Christian knows what it means?" I asked her what she meant and she answered, "Well... if they are Christ-ians then Christ should be the root of their whole lives."

She is absolutely, unequivocally correct. If we say we are Christian... followers, believers in Christ, then Christ most definitely should be unabashedly rooted in our lives.

It made me ponder the multitude of people who make the bold statement, "I am a Christian." Yet, get embarrassed or flustered if someone brings up Christ's name. Jesus.

For some reason, probably because of all the politicians' empty and convenient declarations of Christanity, I thought of public figures who make the statement, know what it means (by #2's standards) and unabashedly shout it to the world.

It made me stop and really ponder #1's next question in that conversation...

"What if Hehad become embarrassed when it came to us?"

I am so very grateful He didn't.

I literally owe Him my life.

I am so glad He chose to put me above His own.

It reminded me of a song that I searched for to post the words. Instead, I found the following video of the song along with stills from the Passion of the Christ. Wow. Perfect illustration of Christ's love for us.He put us all above His own life.

February 8, 2008

Oh pray tell!! What vanity I can no longer deny I have! I am in the midst of re-vamping this blog's looks and cannot for the life of me decide on a picture of myself. So here are the questions I put forth. I have only a few current pics to choose from.

This one.

And this one.

Or maybe this one.

I know they look the same...but not exactly the same.

Here are my vain thoughts on the subject:

1) The actual picture on the new blog will not be as big as these so you won't be able to so readily see my crooked canine teeth, splotchy facial skin and globbed mass of mascara.

2) The one that shows just part of my face hides my second (and third) chin and I don't have the scared wide-eyed look.

3) I am seriously thinking of fore goin' a real picture of moi and goin' with either a sexy saloon girl or an old granny grunt (in honor of my real Granny Grunt of course).

So what shall it be? One of these... or grin and bear it and have Big Shooter take more?

Oh, and just for fun...

Should I choose this one I call "Gene Pool"...

...this one called "Caught Digging for Carrots"...

...or this take on the classic very scaryShining scene "I'm baaaaack..."?

February 6, 2008

I usually hate getting those "find out about your friends eye color, her latest cry fest, favorite ice cream flavor, her panty size, etc. etc." So I think it's very apropos I would turn around and do a similar kind of post. (Saucy get off the floor cause I used that word...apropos.) It'll be fun. I hope you all participate. Especially those who are my faithful lurkers!Here are the rules:*Chose your middle name or maiden name (if you have one).*List an adjective or short phrase describing yourself beginning with each letter.(I am using both of mine. I was going to say to give you an example but you all know the truth - it's because I always have a bunch to say!)

A ~ always try to find the positiveN ~ never-ending harrassmentN ~ not always lateG ~ got a really good aimE ~ every day is a giftN ~ nocturnalN ~ never tire of my familyPost yours in a comment! Purty pllllease.

February 5, 2008

Okay, here's the deal. I do not have a M.D. in anything that will pay excessive bills, provide private school tution, lavish vacations or a visit to Tahiti any time soon. However, I do have a serious M.R.S. degree that has been dramatically enhanced by my M.H. (motherhood) degree. Therefore, when I see dangerous symptoms that can potentially effect my M.R.S. degree you can bet your bottom dollar I'm gonna say something. And if that doesn't work, I'm gonna say it again. And if that doesn't work, I'm gonna say it again...and then tattle to you all.Here's the scoop. Way back when Big Shooter started on his historic, mind-boggling weight loss it was precipitated by a very severe case of the "just-feel-like-crap-all-the-time-yuckies" (that's my pretend M.D. brillance speaking). He got really sick, lost a bunch of weight and then he was on a roll so why stop kinda thing. Anyhow, he has never really got over the just feel like crap a lot of the time yuckies. In fact, here recently I've noticed him getting really bad again. I've been thinking about it quite a bit lately b/c of the whole M.R.S. thing. I really don't want it to change to W.H. (widowhood) any time soon. And like a bolt of lightening it hit me. I've known many people who have lost tremendous amounts of weight (albeit through surgery, unlike the Big Shooter) and have then been hit head-on with gallstones. Hmmm....I looked it up and this is what I found for symptoms:*Moderate to severe pain under the right side of the rib cage - yep, his hand seems to be glued right there lately...*Pain may radiate through to the back or to the right shoulder - how many e.r. visits have we made now for heart attack symptoms or breathing difficulties? I've lost count.*Severe upper abdominal pain (biliary colic) - yep.*Nausea - yep.*Queasiness - always.*Vomiting - oh yeah, baby. can you say projectile?*Excessive wind - ...he can wake me from a sound sleep, or wake the dead...and he does - often*Burping or belching - we have stock in rolaids*Attacks are often at night or evenings - and I thought he was just trying to shirk his duties*Attacks often occur after overeating - have you seen his before picture and my current picture?*Pain will often but not always follow a meal with fats or grease - no comment.*Pain may be worse with deep inhalation - with all the excitement in this house he seems to always be in pain from sucking the air out of the room*Attacks can last from 15 minutes to 15 hours -absoluetly dead on.My point is this: I truly think B. S. is experiencing a serious gallbladder problem of some sort. He doesn't deny it. He agrees he needs to call the doctor. He promises to everyday. He wakes up, doesn't feel too bad, starts his busy day, and then come late afternoon - evening and here we go again... What's your suggestion?

I worked off and (mostly) on in a Hallmark from the age of 16 until 24ish. That's a whole lotta time to get aquainted with cards just l'me tell ya! I can go into a grocery store, Target, truck stop and even a car wash and sniff out the card displays within seconds of entering the premise. My love affair with card stock will probably go on forever...even after they become obsolete because of the ease and price of e-greetings. So you can only guess at my delight each year when I am the recipient of real live hold 'em in your hands feel 'em tear 'em open cards from two men who get it. Now, please don't take this wrong. I know guys buy cards. I know some even scan them before they make their choice. But, I spent waaaay too much time helping or watching guys buy cards over the years to not appreciate, I mean reallly appreciate it when my father and husband give me cards that say, "I took the time...".My father picked out a card this year with beautiful watercolored flowers that were embellished with beads and iridescent glitter (not a tacky amount mind you, just subtle and nice). The words were very sweet and thoughtful, not overly sappy and they showed a little hint to my personality. That's how I know he actually read it, pondered his choice and made his selection with me in mind. (Don't bother leaving a comment contrary to this Dad or I'll just have to "edit" it a tiny bit...) Thanks for taking time for me. You had no idea I was so observant did you? I know, it is a sickness. Wonder where it came from? Thank you none the less for your thoughtfulness.My loving husband after many years of "perfecting" his card giving ways has finally come up with the perfect solution. He just buys all of them he thinks fit me...anywhere from 3-7.I can always count on getting the Humorous one or two or three. Which usually alludes to my cooking, personality or domestic capabilities (or lack there of). Followed by the Freakin' Hilarious one. Which 9 times out of 10 alludes to my...ahem...more amorous side. Then he always ends with the Lovey Dovey one. I am going to share the Lovey Dovey words of this year's card because even though it is gorgeous lavendar with royal violet and beautiful girly flowers it was most definitely written by another man that gets cards...and men who buy them.

Here goes:

For My Wife

We've been married a long time.

Now we speak more

of home repair than romance.

When we talk about being hot,

it's usually a thermostat thing.

Candlelight means

there's a power failure,

and a great night in bed

usually means we managed

to get some sleep.

But in the midst

of the humdrum,

I catch a look at your eyes

and see the eyes of the one I fell in love with...

And in your voice,

I still hear the whispers

of someone newly in love,

in your hands, I feel the caress

that has always made me melt.

Life isn't always fun or exciting

or wonderful...

...but you are.

That my Sister~Friends is a Man Card if I've ever read one. I will venture to say it is a front runner for the Holy Grail of Man Cards. Home repair. Thermostat thing. Power failure. Midst the Humdrum. And my all-time fave: Life isn't always fun or exciting or wonderful...Wow, why it just takes my breath away...

February 3, 2008

I love hearing what the Crumb Snatchers have going on in their heads. I feel privleged when one of them shares a burdening question with me. You know the kind. When you've pondered, weighed, contemplated and squeezed every last ounce of sense out of something. Then you ask someone else what they think just to hear if your conclusion is any where in their vicinity.

This morning while lovingly stroking the BDP's little wrinkly head #2 asked her most burning life question of late: Mommee, if you could chose to be a dog or a person which would you be?

This is that short but telling conversation.

Mommee: I'd be a person.

#2: Why

Mommee: Because to be a happy dog you'd need to have good owners...and honestly I think there are more people who just own dogs then there are really good dog owners.

#2: You're right. But to be a happy kid, you have to have really good parents too.